


The time after the Nightmare

by BenvolioLives



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Bondage planned for later, F/M, Female Masturbation, Smut, a little fluff, bathtime, whouffle
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-05-16
Updated: 2013-05-16
Packaged: 2017-12-12 01:29:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,583
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/805564
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BenvolioLives/pseuds/BenvolioLives
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clara ponders the doctor and his feelings for her, or lack thereof, and has a lovely relaxing bath to cool down. Oops. More coming, just trying to find time to write more than this first chapter. Post Nightmare in Silver, minor spoilers for that episode. Please help me out by leaving a comment! Currently Un-beta'd.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The time after the Nightmare

When a man you know nothing about, who may or may not be in control of his own body due to an alien gadget stuck to his head confesses that he finds you, a short single /human/ nanny attractive, how do you tell the difference between what is and what you wish were true? In Clara's case, she compared it to the myriad of imaginings and fantasies that seemed to perpetually bubble and simmer in the back of her mind when she ran with the Doctor. And though her pulse raced as it did every other time, and the words from his lips flowed like honey into her heart, there was just something /wrong/. Something niggling at the edge of her consciousness that plucked her out of the moment and kept her from giving herself to him utterly as her fantasies suggested. And although that wasn't enough to save the detonator when the time came, it kept her face from dropping the half grin that felt like lead at the return to reality before releasing the Doctor from his bindings.

Thinking back over every second of the time she'd spent watching him fight the demon on his head, and how it seemed to read his mind and his thoughts, it occurred to her that the cyber-whoozymajig had come to the table with no knowledge of the Doctor and only his thoughts as a reference. If the first way it had thought to manipulate her was through, well, the way it had tried to, there must have been some logic for the machine to decide on that. And if that were true, that the computer had found love somewhere in the Doctor's head, would it not still be there for either of them to find? Tucking the children in - no bedtime story now, they'd grown up enough not to need to hear about magic and mystery before bed, and besides, they'd had enough of that recently- and leaving them with the threat to ban them from the TV if they didn't stop fighting and go to sleep /right now/, Clara returned downstairs to write a long and emotionally confused email to Nina, before deleting the draft and shutting down her laptop without sending it: what good would it do to ask one messed up person to help with another's hopeless confusion.

She decided, in the interest of taking her mind off the Doctor and his mad snog-box, to collapse into a bath. Giving the children another fifteen minutes to fall asleep during which time she tidied up the downstairs before their parent's visit tomorrow, she headed upstairs to the bathroom. Once there, Clara began to run as deep a bath as the tub would allow, with a splurge of bubble bath mixture for good measure. Once the foam was just threatening to overflow the rim of the tub, and the water was at the most comfortable temperature, she turned the water off and double checked the sliding lock on the door: it wouldn't do to have one of the children interrupt her alone-time. Quickly stripping down to her underwear, the draft caused by the convection of the air in the hot room made her shiver, and the last of her clothing was dropped into the washing bag as she clambered into the tub. The water swirled her waist but the bubbles sat around her collarbones as she lay back: the bath was long and her slight build meant that there was plenty of space for her to lean back, but the sides were narrow which prevented her hips shifting, so that her buttocks were nestled snugly midway down and under a layer of bubbles and water.

As she lay back, and the warmth began to envelop her body, she smiled: looking after the two children meant that she was seldom alone, and she'd learnt to treasure the time she got to herself. Even when they were at school there were always things to keep her busy. But now she could have a warm, long, relaxing bath. or at least she would be able to were it not for the fact that she didn't seem to be able to tear her mind from the Doctor and his damned face, with or without the silver addition. he just looked so young, and she knew almost nothing about him beyond that he looked ravishing in a waistcoat. Stop, Clara chided herself internally, unwilling to let herself get carried away or distracted, trying to convince herself that she did not, in fact, harbour any feelings beyond companionship for this crazed madman with a jealous box. She'd seen how hurt the blind girl from the past was after falling for the man who would never willingly let anyone in, and she knew that she didn't want to follow the torturous path that she was sure that many others had also fallen down. Still, said a voice in the back of her head that sounded scarily like a subconscious, there was no harm in merely thinking about it was there? And after all, he had got such lovely cheekbones and a glorious-

Clara was only half surprised to find herself drifting again into an absurd state of contemplating the arse of her unusual Doctor. She was also sure, from the warmth in her cheeks, that if she weren't surrounded by water, she would already be feeling a dampness growing in the curls between her legs as her attention wandered. The Doctor in her mind's eye danced between the cheeky grin and extended hand that promised adventure, and the intensity and strength that just sent indecent shivers down her spine and her fingers down the softness of her inner thigh before edging upward in mimicry of her fantasies. 

As her thoughts of the impossible man became more vivid, more intense, a tingling warmth spread from her belly up and down her body, uncurling and seeping into every cell, rising to a heat quite different to that of the water where her fingertips finally brushed against the outer labia through the light curls that surrounded the folds between her legs. She imagined his large hands and their long, long fingers tracing every contour in time with her own, and this spurred her on to more heated movements, worries about being interrupted forgotten as she lifted her right leg out of the tub and hooked her knee around the edge, giving her fingers the space they needed to play across the skin that was now lifted clear of the water and only lightly caressed by the bubbles covering it. Her head fell back as the cooler air met the swollen lips that had been submerged, and even now the finger ran through the folds, coaxing the wetness she needed from them until it almost dripped from her body into the water. A small gasp escaped her mouth as an unintended shift of her hips caused the side of her fingers to brush against the heated nub that was her clitoris. her thoughts of the Doctor, already a tableau of fantasies and images of him in all his intensity and strength that made her burn fell out of focus. The head in her abdomen multiplied to a fire of lust and desire as the memory of the pattern left by the rope that had bound him on his skin burst unbidden to the forefront of her mind, leading to an involuntary thrust as her hips lifted clear of the water, her fingers moving strongly inside herself as the heat burnt to an aching need that shocked her with its power even as it carried her breathless and panting over the edge to collapse into the water again with a splash that did nothing to cool her down. 

As the stars at the edge of her vision stopped dancing and faded from sight and she relaxed, the now-sated little voice in her head reminded her that she's just fantasised about a tied up thousand year old alien, before it fell asleep, taking the tingly warmth and any vestigial arousal with it, leaving Clara in a rapidly cooling bathtub and back in reality. She wasn't really sure about how she felt about what had just happened. Although it had been a more pleasant interruption than she'd been expecting, it wasn't something she usually thought about, ropes and knots and tied up aliens. The whole scenario seemed rather unreal, so she almost put it aside as one of the strange occurrences that just happen when you run with the Doctor. But then she had an idea, one that at first seemed so outlandish that she cocked an eyebrow and pulled a silly grin at the thought. But slowly, as she thought about it, her smile widened as it began to sound more and more attractive. if this idea of a tied-up Doctor was so compelling to her, why shouldn't she take advantage of it and kill two birds with one stone: find out more about the mysterious man and his feelings for her, and have a little fun at the same time? She washed quickly and drained the bath before donning a fluffy bathrobe and padding off to find her laptop: there was only one person she trusted to help her plan this, and maybe a sex-addicted best friend would even have some things she could borrow for the occasion. Clara grinned as she sat down to type an email to Nina: this Wednesday would be /fun/.


End file.
